You Don't Remember
by Glum n Dumb Skittery
Summary: (rated for slight profanity, slash) Birthday fic for Lauren. Dutchy dedicates a song to his high-school crush, who may or may not remember him, in the audience. "Tears filled his soft blue eyes as they met the spot Specs had last been in..."


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A/N: This is my belated birthday present to Lauren "Specs" Kaina. We go way back to the soccer days of first grade, to having every core class but one in the seventh grade, to now and our days of obsession. Thanks, kid: keep it real. This one's for you.

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All standard disclaimers apply. ("You Don't Remember" Copyright to Na Leo) Enjoy.

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You Don't Remember

A flash of blonde hair darted through the sea of mingling teens and their expensive lattes and strawberry lip gloss. "Swifty! SWIFTY!!"

Somewhere in the back, a Brooklynite in his early 20's was just about finished tuning up his bass guitar, pulling back slick brown-blonde hair in a satisfactory, if not a little rumpled, ponytail, and managing a glance at the clock. "Oy, boys! Half an hour till stage"

The band's drummer came walking briskly out, face scowling, drumsticks clenched tightly in hand.

Spot lifted an eyebrow. "Yo, Glum 'N' Dumb what the hell happened to you?"

Skittery spun on his heel, stopped, held up the clenched sticks and released it, three pieces ending up on the ground. Three? The right hand stick, the top of the left, and the bottom. "Tape. We forgot _tape_. I'm making a run to the nearest music store."

"Half an hour," Spot warned as the drummer stalked off with his little black rain cloud bursting overhead.

A blonde suddenly burst through the stage door, sweaty and red-faced and gasping for air. "Swifty, where's Swifty?" He managed after a minute or so.

Spot snapped a string, muttering a few choice curses before pointing towards the back dressing room. Dutchy murmured his thanks before bolting once again.

So passed 7:32 P.M.; Tuesday, July 20, 2004.

The dressing room door burst open.

"SWIFT— oh shit, I'm sorry!"

The dressing room door slammed shut.

An Asian in his mid-twenties chuckled, disentangling himself from his equally amused, if not slightly more embarrassed, Hispanic guitarist boyfriend. Both stared at the door in amusement, listening to lead singer, Dutcy, apologize profusely and just barely coherent enough for several minutes before a meek "Are you both decent?" came and the door creaked open slowly.

"Dude, we were only kissing," Bumlets said, blush still receding.

Swifty grinned. "Relax, both of you." Moving Bumlet's guitar off the chair, he motioned for Dutchy to take a seat, which was received gratefully. "He here?" the keyboardist asked casually.

Dutchy whimpered. "Oh yeah."

From somewhere outside, Spot called out the twenty-minute warning.

Bumlets looked from Swifty to Dutchy and shook his head. "I guess I'll go outside and wait for Skittery. You guys want anything, a drink?" Swifty gave him a grateful look and didn't ask for anything, Dutchy shook his head. "Alright, be back."

Once the guitarist had left the room and was safely out of ear-shot, Dutchy whirled on the Asian. "I can't go out tonight. I changed my mind."

Swifty rolled his eyes. "Too bad, you chicken-shit. We all need the money. Besides, you said you were gonna do it, so you're gonna freaking do it whether or not the guys and I have to drag you onstage or not."

The blonde removed his glasses, wiping them furiously with his shirt ends. "I can't do it," he whispered, more to himself than to the other boy. They were both silent for a moment. Dutchy in self-pitying, contemplative silence, Swifty in sympathetic, don't-know-what-to-say compliance.

"Hey, Swift?"

"What?"

"How do you know if he's the one?"

"Who, Bumlets?"

"No, dummy, the _other_ guy you've been with for six years. Of course, him."

Swifty took a moment to grin at his friend's sarcasm, then glanced at the carpeted ground. His eyes got a thoughtful gleam to it and when he started to speak, his voice came out softly, almost gently. "They bring out a part of you that you'd never met, I guess. And, it's like, everything that's happened in your life has suddenly led up to this — to meeting them. They become the reason for everything. For living. And you can just tell, just by looking them in the eye." He looked up, meeting Dutchy's blue eyes. "You remember all the things about them, even if they've forgotten it. You never forget."

Dutchy swallowed and then licked his lips, nodding slowly. His mouth couldn't form the word "thanks", so he kept nodding.

"TEN MINUTES!" Spot screeched.

"Dude! Yeah, don't worry, I only use that ear to listen to your whack-ass bass guitar."

Outside, Bumlets and Spots broke out in half-playful bantering, half-dangerous arguing. From almost out of nowhere, Skittery came walking past the dressing room, peeking in with a quick "Do you guys have scissors?" and then biting off a piece of tape anyway and he turned around and walked the other way.

And somewhere on the other side of the stage, a small group of college boys came walking in, amongst them a young bespectacled man, by the name of Specs.

"FIVE MINUTES!"

Dutchy managed to refocus his eyes and his thoughts. "Thanks, man." Swifty shrugged, smiled. "Don't thank me yet. You still have time to screw up on-stage." The blonde grinned wryly. "Guess so." "FOUR MINUTES!" Swifty got up and walked out, having to put the last technical touches on his keyboard, what with the plugging in and crap. The club owner's made them do all these things at the last minute, which was a pain in the ass if you asked any of the bands that performed there.

Dutchy got up a few seconds later and followed him out. Skittery and Bumlets were threatening Spot with Skitt's newly bought tape, hiding the view of the clock from him with their much taller bodies. Just beyond the stage, the patrons were conversing and the crowds were rapidly growing as the time passed both quickly and slowly.

Somewhere amidst it all, the blonde lead singer wondered whether or not it mattered anymore. A high-school crush seemed ridiculous now, even more so since they were almost out of college Who remembered things like that?

"ONE — shit, let go, dammit, we gotta go! — MINUTE!" Show time.

Loud applause greeted them as they filed-slash-ran out on to the stage. Skittery took his seat in the back, behind his drum-set, messily and thickly taped right-hand stick expertly concealed until the last moment. Swifty smirked down at his keyboard, cracking his knuckles and silently praying to God he'd plugged in the right cords. Spot plugged his bass into the amplifier, a little less than confident that the string he'd just replaced would hold, even if they were only playing several songs. Bumlets did the same with his guitar, running a hand through his hair, pushing it back, away from his face. Dutchy, trembling and dry-mouthed, took his place on the microphone and put all his acting skills to use.

He smiled.

"Hello out there!" Wild cheers from those that had seen previous shows with them. "We're Chicken Party!" Even louder screams. "I'm no good at public speaking so we're just gonna kick it right into the singing!" Laughter inter-mixed with screaming. Skittery tapped out for the first song and that set in motion the next hour or so of rocking out.

Much to Dutchy's chagrin, the hour went by a lot quicker than he'd hoped. Towards the beginning, it'd helped his self-esteem to see the crowds dancing and having a good time. But now, even with that knowledge, all he knew was he was doomed.

"All right, you guys." He swiped a sleeve across his forehead. "This is our last song for tonight. Part of our group heard it a while back on a trip to Hawaii, the lyrics were cool and we thought we could do our own version of it." He paused. No, _hesitated_. "Okay, I'll stop bull-shitting you all. I wanted to dedicate this song to someone very special in the audience who I knew way back in my high school days. Someone I had this really huge crush on. We're talking a crush of apocalyptic proportions." Catcalls and 'aww's entwined. "Anyway, I just needed to get this out of my system. Go figure. Written by Ms. Lehua Kalima, this is 'You Don't Remember'."

A soft keyboard introduction was the only remnant of the original song before Bumlet's guitar gave a screech and Skittery's drum-set went into overdrive.

"_You don't remember, I'll never forget/That blessed day when we first met_/_And I saw the face I always knew/The sunny smile, the only you."_

Closing his eyes, Dutchy could see himself on the first day of school, colliding head-on with a tall brunette, both of their glasses sent flying, both of them on their knees, groping along the tiled floor for their respective handicaps.

"_You don't remember, I'll never forget/One day in my life I will never regret/to feel such love I never knew/All bundled up right there in you."_

Another flashback. Out on the field for gym class, another collision. Only this time, not friendly. Football had never been the sport for the tiny blonde. Which is why when he saw five guys coming after him, he'd frozen up and taken the blows. Who'd carried him to the nurse as he lay unconscious? Which was the first face he saw when he came to? One guess.

"_As I held you near my heart/I understood at last, the part of me I'd never met/You don't remember, I'll never forget."_

He'd treasured the moments, passing him in the hallway, the cheerful "hey!" he'd receive for his shy wave. Even as his arm had slipped around the waist of another, that one word in greeting seemed enough. He'd never believed in destiny, in fate, but suddenly he wondered.

"_You don't remember, I'll never forget/That blessed day when we first met/And when I heard your voice I realized the truth/Everything in my life led me here to you."_

Opening his eyes at last, he searched the crowds for that one familiar face. There. Amidst the crowds, almost completely hidden by cheering friends, drinks in hand, he sat, leaning forward, face almost completely blank - as though searching for an answer. Their eyes met. And suddenly, something clicked. Specs' back straightened, eyes brighter than they'd been a second ago, his mouth in an almost comical "O" formation.

"You don't remember, I'll never forget/One day in my life I will never regret/A gift so precious give me, my angel love/Truly a miracle from God above."

As if it were too much, Dutchy let his eyes fall shut once again.

"_And when I look into your eyes, I see the reason why I've lived my life."_

The keyboard went silent, the drums fell calmly off into the end, the guitars' vibrations echoed into the darkness. Dutchy's voice was the only thing left to hear. His eyelids slid back. Tears filled his soft blue eyes as they met the spot Specs had last been in. And the sight that greeted him there.

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"You don't remember… what I'll never forget."

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A smile that could've lit the goddamned night sky.

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-end-

Chicken Party is big reference to one of my many word mix-ups. Our school has an underground chicken-breeding stock. No, seriously. We have chicken four out of five days a week for lunch at our school. So when someone asked me what was for lunch in the group, I automatically respond with "Chicken PATTY". Only this time, I was having another conversation about someone's party and it came out wrong. I have not lived it down since. So… chicken party!!!

A/N: Yay! That was written in the span of three days in very close-quarters with three other people. (Newswriting field trip, long story.) So, hopefully it's not as butchered and clipped as it originally was. (Homophobic girls, I tell ya.) Hope it was to everyone's liking, 'specially Lauren's. (Happy Birthday again!) Please review! Cheers. PS - To those who still care… Bleed/Breathe has not come out yet due to the fact that the diskette with the two (completed!!) stories on it -- broke. I won't say how because it's partially my fault (though I was certainly not the one who did the actually breaking of it), but yeah… I have to re-write it. Being mad at myself, it's coming out slowly and crappy. Forgive me and be patient?


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